My Precious

Oh will our love through seasons
last;
Not spiteful lest we'll make it
past.
My want for you is true, I
pray;
For strength to know I will not
stray.
And was your touch not dear to
me;
The search would lead me to the
sea.
While waiting on the wind, your
voice,
I'll strain to hear that my love is
your choice.
Then when the bond is stronger
still;
Renew my love to you, I
will!

by Richard Ritacco

Other poems of RICHARD RITACCO (2)

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